Spencer sat in Sheriam's office with Thread Sight active and his stomach slowly turning to ice.
The request had been simple enough — novice class observation privileges for his "Talent study," a legitimate extension of the research Siuan had arranged. Sheriam had agreed with the distracted efficiency of a woman managing hundreds of students, barely glancing up from her paperwork.
Which gave Spencer exactly what he needed: a clear, sustained view of the Mistress of Novices' thread.
Black corruption. Definitely present.
But wrong.
The pattern didn't match Liandrin's template. Where Liandrin's infection was decades-deep and sophisticated, Sheriam's corruption had a different signature entirely — different handler, different network, different loyalty structure. The black threads wove through her silver Aes Sedai thread in patterns Spencer had never seen before.
[THREAT IDENTIFIED: Shadow corruption confirmed. Entity: Sheriam Bayanar, Blue Ajah. Status: Black Ajah (SEPARATE CELL). Note: Corruption pattern does NOT match Liandrin network template. Different handler hierarchy. Different operational structure. This is a SECOND independent Black Ajah cell operating within the Tower.]
Spencer's hands went cold.
Not thirteen. Not just Liandrin's cell.
There are multiple networks.
"Is something wrong?" Sheriam asked, looking up from her papers. Her face was pleasant, concerned, perfectly masked — a Blue Ajah sister attending to a guest's comfort.
"Just a headache," Spencer managed. "The Tower still affects me sometimes."
"Ah, yes. The unusual Talent." Sheriam's smile was warm. "You should visit the Yellow Ajah infirmary if it persists. They have excellent remedies for sensitivity conditions."
"Thank you, Aes Sedai. I will."
Spencer left her office on legs that felt like they belonged to someone else. The corridor stretched ahead of him, and every door suddenly seemed to hide another threat.
How many cells? How many networks? How many Black Ajah sisters have I been walking past without knowing?
Thirteen was a surgical strike. Multiple cells is a war.
---
Verin's quarters felt smaller that evening.
Spencer delivered his report in their coded shorthand — phrases that sounded like academic discussion but carried operational intelligence underneath. Sheriam's separate cell structure. The different corruption pattern. The implications for their entire strategy.
Verin listened in silence. When Spencer finished, she poured tea with hands that didn't quite steady.
"I suspected," she said quietly. "I could never confirm. But my list..."
"How many names, Verin?"
The Brown sister met his eyes. The absent-minded scholar mask was gone. What remained was a woman who had spent seventy years carrying impossible weight alone.
"Approximately sixty."
Spencer's stomach dropped.
"Sixty Black Ajah. In the Tower."
"Organized in cells that don't share information between themselves. Some report to different Forsaken handlers. Some don't know each other exist." Verin's voice was steady but brittle. "The Black Ajah isn't a conspiracy, Aldan. It's an institution. It's been operating inside the Tower for three thousand years, and it has survived every purge, every investigation, every well-meaning attempt to root it out."
Sixty. Not thirteen. Sixty.
I've been debugging a single function while the entire operating system is compromised.
Spencer sat back in his chair. The tea in front of him had gone cold without him noticing.
"My plan was surgical," he said. "Expose Liandrin's cell. Cut out the visible tumor. But if there are five cells, or ten, or—"
"At least six major networks," Verin confirmed. "Possibly more. The ones I've mapped."
"Then exposing Liandrin accomplishes what? Pruning one branch while the roots spread deeper?"
Verin's smile was tired and old. "Now you understand why I've spent seventy years building a list instead of acting. The scope is... paralyzing."
Spencer stared at his cold tea. Sixty Black Ajah sisters. Each one capable of channeling, trained in politics, embedded in the Tower's institutional structure. Each one hiding behind Aes Sedai oaths that supposedly prevented lies.
The oaths don't prevent lies. They force creative truth-telling. And the Black Ajah swears different oaths entirely.
"We need a different approach," he said finally.
"Yes."
"Not surgical strikes. Long-term intelligence. Mapping the full network before any exposure."
"Yes."
"And protecting the people who matter while we work. Siuan. Moiraine. Nicola."
Verin's expression sharpened. "The new novice? The one Sheriam evaluated?"
"She has Talents. Significant ones. And if the Black Ajah discovers what she can see..."
"Ah." Verin nodded slowly. "Another piece on a board that keeps getting larger."
Spencer stood and walked to the window. Tar Valon spread below, lights glowing warm in a thousand windows. Somewhere in those buildings, sixty women served the Shadow while wearing the face of the Light.
How many of those windows hide cold hearts?
"Sixty," he said again, testing the word.
"Sixty that I know of," Verin corrected. "The actual number may be higher."
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